Pearls, Scarves and Inner Soul

I am on the train to the Big City. Pondering. I am looking around and the thoughts are random.

I am sitting behind four young, black ladies. I am not sure how old they are. One looks like she could be in college. Maybe older. The rest seem like they could be in high school. They are studying their Sunday School lessons. They are on one tix in and during the course of their conversation-I wonder what they were doing.

Next to me is an Indian woman and her daughter. I don’t know if they live in the ‘burbs or in the city. I find Indian culture so fascinating sometimes. I don’t know much (Happy Diwali?), although probably more than most people who aren’t Indian. Outside of Faux Tofu. She’s actually been to India, for a wedding no less. (Jealous? Yes!) What I know is mostly learned from working at a software and data company that had a few Indian owners. That and working with teams in the India office. I guess this is a topic for another time.

I have a knock off Burberry scarf. I bought it for $12 on the streets a month ago or so when Joker and I went to the city for girls’ weekend. I feel pretentious and self-conscious with it right now. It is a pretty good knock-off. Part of me doesn’t care. The part that feels pretentious, I am trying to figure out why I have it. I have really pretty scarves from Egypt and India that Faux got me.

I get stuck between feelings of materialism and philanthropy. My goal in life is to be a philanthropist, so I will have to have money. I was once told I couldn’t be a missionary or humanitarian worker because I was too prissy. I then develpoed my goal of being a philanthropist. I could then fund “less prissy” people and go into the field every few months for a month or two.

There is a song by The Band Called Perry, I think it is called “If I Die Young.” Part of the song says “put on your best boys and I’ll wear my pearls.” At that moment, I decided I needed pearls. I decided I wanted to wear cardigans and button downs all the time. (I don’t.) I want to wear pencil skirts and pleated skirts. (I don’t.) I want to dress super classy. And a part of me wants to wear sweaters that are for an age group older than myself. Why don’t I just embrace prissy to the fullest? I guess this stems from my unquenchable desire to be Southern.

See my mom’s family is from the South. It is where I feel I belong. Plus, I like the weather more. When we moved further north, I got treated like a backwoods hillbilly. Excuse me, I moved from another city…even if it was smaller. It’s still a city! So why not just embrace the South? I have roots in it. I didn’t realize how Southern I was still I met girls who thought it was acceptable to leave the house without doing hair and make-up. Or until I started not wearing nylons and my friends had been doing it for ages. I think too when I realized I didn’t really judge people, I just took them as they were. I am still willing to leave the bubble more than the rest up here.

This string of thoughts started because I was thinking about how Joker wanted a BMW or Mercedes for her next car, soooo baaad. They can’t afford it, she should know it. She’s out of her mind and I hope her husband puts his foot down. Now that is pretentious.